"Mr. Drake, I admit I may have spoken out of turn, but I’m the Prime Minister of an entire nation—and Arthur, that damn turtle, beat me like this! And now you're not only refusing to back me up—you’re kicking me out?! Are you absolutely sure you’re the one who hasn’t misspoken?!" President Holland was practically second only to the monarch in Tamaria. From his perspective, coming to Heaven Island and joining Heaven’s Cult was a favor to them—a mutually beneficial arrangement. In this crowd, President Holland held relatively high status. That was exactly why, when he spread rumors about Ashley and Mr. Drake, others eagerly joined in. But no matter how powerful he was, he wasn't one of them. And when it came to protecting their own interests, the others didn’t hesitate to throw him under the bus. After his outburst, an eerie silence fell across the room. But it didn’t last long. The thunderous gunshot broke the stillness like a lightning strike. Then came a scream—raw, piercing, gut-wrenching. Even louder, even more desperate than when Arthur had beaten him. Everyone stood frozen, horrified by the scene before them. President Holland was on the floor, clutching his thigh, shrieking in agony. Blood poured from between his fingers and quickly soaked the floor beneath him. At some point, Mr. Drake had drawn a gun. Its barrel was still aimed at them, black and unflinching. A faint wisp of smoke curled from it. He had pulled the trigger. All because President Holland dared say one offensive thing—Drake had shot him. Shot him! Everyone stared at the barrel of that gun, their hearts skipping a beat. A primal fear swept up from the soles of their feet and seized their chests.These men had held power for years. But never had they felt fear this sharp, this real. Drake looked at them calmly, unfazed by what he’d just done. There was no panic in his eyes. No anger. Just cold clarity. He asked, in a low, casual voice, "Anyone else have something to say?" The words sounded harmless, like a friend making small talk. But to them, it was a death sentence. A curse. Every syllable chilled them to the bone. They had thought Arthur was reckless for laying a hand on President Holland. But Drake—Drake was ruthless. Whether or not they could touch him once they were off the island didn’t even matter. Here on Heaven Island, if they dared say one more word, Drake would pull the trigger again—without hesitation. It didn’t matter if they were high-ranking officials or billionaire tycoons. Drake would shoot them just the same. And the moment they realized that, real fear finally took hold. President Holland, still on the floor and writhing in pain, stared up at Drake in disbelief. He couldn’t wrap his head around it—Drake had actually shot him. Just for questioning whether he had misspoken. He, the Prime Minister of Tamaria—shot like a criminal! He hadn’t been in office long, sure, but his position was legitimate and powerful. And Drake? Heaven’s Cult? They were just a rogue organization in the eyes of the world. And yet they had the audacity to treat him like this. Still, President Holland knew he had no choice now. He was on their turf. He couldn’t fight back. Revenge is a dish best served cold. I’ll make him pay. Just not today. When he left Heaven Island, he’d make sure this Drake regretted everything. No one knew how far Heaven’s Cult’s reach extended, but no matter how wide it was, there was no way it could stand up to a nation.President Holland took a deep breath, swallowed his pain, and pushed himself up from the floor. With a sincere expression, he half-knelt and said, "Mr. Drake, I was blind to who I was dealing with. I’ve deeply offended you. As President Holland, I willingly withdraw from the membership trial. I only ask that you show mercy and let me go." His voice cracked with forced humility and reluctant defeat. He nearly ground his molars to dust as he spoke. The others stared at him, stunned. One shot—that was all it took? President Holland had caved that easily? Then again, refusing might have meant he wouldn’t make it off the island alive. They hadn’t been allowed to bring their entourages. If Drake wanted him dead, no one could stop him here. That realization hit everyone at once. They followed suit. One by one, they dropped to a half-kneel and echoed President Holland’s words in unison. "Mr. Drake, we were blind to who we were dealing with. We’ve deeply offended you. We willingly withdraw from the membership trial. We only ask that you show mercy and let us go."